Page 26 of Chasing Stripes

“Ah, what a fortuitous gathering,” he said smoothly. “Just the people I hoped to find.”

Thaddeus Dartmouth looking too polished, too composed for the early hour.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Bartek moved—liquid grace in human form—positioning himself between Artemis and the newcomer without seeming to take a single step. The half-eaten cinnamon roll remained in his hand, still glowing.

“Mr. Dartmouth,” Tilly greeted, her voice cooler than Artemis had ever heard it. “What brings you to Honeycrisp so early?”

“A craving for your delightful blackberry scones,” he replied, gaze drifting from the display case to Artemis, then lingering on Bartek. His eyes narrowed fractionally at their proximity. “I see you have company. Mr. Arbor, isn’t it? The new... establishment across the street is yours, I believe?”

“Tooth & Claw,” Bartek confirmed, voice neutral but body coiled with subtle tension. “You’ve stopped by.”

“Indeed, I have. Quite the ambitious venture.” Thaddeus brushed an invisible speck from his immaculate sleeve. “Though perhaps a bit out of place in the Borderlands. Neither fully in the Sparkle District nor the Fang Quarter.” His lip curled slightly. “One might question whether it properly belongs.”

The temperature in the bakery seemed to drop several degrees. Artemis felt Bartek’s energy shift beside her—a gathering storm of leashed power.

“Strange concern from someone who doesn’t belong to any quarter,” Bartek replied, his tone mild but edged with steel.

Thaddeus’s smile tightened. “We all have our place, Mr. Arbor.”

“Yes,” Bartek agreed. “We do.”

The two men stared at each other, the air between them almost visibly charged. Artemis’s fae senses prickled with warning—magic was gathering, dark and oily, around Thaddeus’s carefully manicured hands.

She stepped forward, breaking the silent confrontation. “I’m afraid we’re not quite open yet, Mr. Dartmouth. We had a bit of a recipe... situation this morning.” She gestured to the still-hovering pastries in the display case.

Thaddeus’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes lingering on her flour-smudged apron, then dropping briefly to her waist where the handprints still glowed faintly beneath the fabric. Something calculating passed across his features.

“How unfortunate,” he said. “Another time, perhaps.” He took a step closer, forcing Bartek to either move aside or maintain his protective stance. Bartek didn’t budge. “Though I did want to inquire about that fascinating book you mentioned, Tilly. The one with the historical recipes? I’ve been expanding my collection of magical artifacts, and it sounded quite... valuable.”

TWENTY-THREE

Artemis felt Tilly stiffen beside her.

“Family heirloom,” Tilly replied shortly. “Not for sale or viewing.”

“Of course, of course.” Thaddeus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just scholarly interest, I assure you.” His gaze swept over the three of them, calculating. “Well, if you ever change your mind, my offer stands. I won’t keep you from your preparations.”

He turned to leave, then paused, looking back at the remains of Bartek’s cinnamon roll, still glowing pink on the counter.

“Interesting effect,” he remarked. “Fae magic is so... unpredictable, isn’t it? Especially when it mingles with other energies.” His gaze flicked between Artemis and Bartek with unmistakable implication. “Though I’d be careful with such combinations. They don’t always... stabilize well.”

Then he was gone, the bell tinkling weakly in his wake.

Silence filled the bakery. The pastries slowly settled back onto their trays. Outside, a crow cawed three times—an omen of trouble in fae tradition.

Bartek turned to Artemis, his expression grave. “He has the book.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked, though her gut told her the same.

“His scent changed when Tilly mentioned it wasn’t for sale. Spiked with... satisfaction.” Bartek’s jaw tightened. “And there was magic clinging to him. Old magic with your family’s signature.”

Tilly nodded grimly. “I sensed it too. Residual energy from handling the book.” She looked between them. “We need to speak with the council immediately.”

“I’ll contact Tygra,” Bartek said, pulling out his phone. His eyes remained on Artemis. “The council needs to know what was in that book, exactly what kind of information he might have access to.”

“I’ll make a list,” Tilly assured him. “As much as I can remember.”

Artemis wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warm kitchen. The reality of the situation sank in—a magical tome containing secrets about every supernatural family in town, now in the hands of someone with clearly malevolent intentions.

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